


A Delighted Folly

by dracoqueen22



Series: Folly of the Brave [5]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Episode 18 Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-26 01:00:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16209380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: Fjord has never asked Mollymauk to be anything but what he is.





	A Delighted Folly

The companions are stunning in every way, and Fjord is certain they were hired specifically for that reason. Even so, he can’t manage so much as a smidgen of interest. Not that he faults Molly for the way his eyes light up and turn sultry with erotic imaginings.   
  
“I’m out,” Fjord says, because he has no interest in making that threesome a foursome, and his face burns embarrassingly bright. He has no qualms one-on-one, but this situation right here is the equivalent of awkward and he wants nothing to do with it.   
  
He’d rather wait in the hall.   
  
Is he jealous?   
  
Fjord sits against the wall, legs curled in front of him, unable to shake the heat from his face. No, it’s not jealousy. Well, unless he counts his envy of Molly’s attitude. It must make things so much simpler, to be able to be cavalier, to not attach meaning to  _everything_. To be able to look at two handsome companions and think “yes, there are many dirty things we can do together” and not stammer over his words or his thoughts.   
  
Molly embraces life, and sometimes, Fjord wonders if he’s too scared to live his.   
  
The girls invite him into their room, and Fjord decides that’s better than waiting in the hall, listening to giggles and getting increasingly hot under the collar. He notices, of course, when Beau and Nott vanish and don’t come back, but Jester and Yasha are still good company, and a welcome distraction. Jester can carry a conversation all on her own.   
  
He crunches on his apple, and lets Jester’s chatter serve as a distraction. Because he’s not jealous. He’s not. He’s not upset or angry. He wishes he weren’t so awkward. He wishes he could have joined with a grin and a laugh and a tumble onto a bed much too small, completely at ease. It’s not who he is, but it’s who Molly is, and Fjord’s okay with that.   
  
And even if he isn’t, it wouldn’t matter.   
  
Molly arrives later, carrying a tray of food and wearing nothing but the obnoxiously colored tapestry, which comes as no surprise. Fjord swallows over a lump in his throat at the sight, so many miles of lavender skin on display, and Fjord’s mouth waters. He wants to lick and touch all over, but all he can do is pull his hands into fists and press them against his thighs.   
  
Molly lounges on the floor, back pressed against the edge off a bed, legs sprawled in front of him, the tapestry concealing nothing and everything at once. Jester teases him, fingers flirting across his shoulders, tracing the whorls of his tattoo, and Molly flirts back, because that’s who he is.   
  
Yasha sits there, lips curved with a quiet, amused smile. She’s probably seen Molly naked a hundred times. No wonder it doesn’t phase her. If she notices Fjord hungrily devouring every inch of bare skin, she doesn’t comment. That glint in her eyes, however, speaks of so much more.   
  
Beau returns. Nott doesn’t.   
  
The monk’s got another tray of food, and now they’re overflowing with it. Fruits and vegetables and smoked meats and baked breads, and they eat until they’re groaning with fullness, food leftover on the trays afterward. Jester sprawls on one of the beds, patting her rounded belly. Beau’s facedown on the other.   
  
Yasha sits on the floor, cross-legged, sword in her lap. She looks content to be there.   
  
“I don’t think Caleb’s returning to the room,” Molly says with an artful adjustment of the tapestry over one shoulder, his tongue flicking across his lips, catching a stray fleck of apple from the corner of his mouth.   
  
Jester giggles. “He misses all the fun.” She wriggles around, mussing the covers into a fine tangle. She sleeps like that, Fjord knows, blankets twisted around her in a fine cocoon.   
  
Beau’s jaw cracks in a yawn. “Maybe he’s got the right idea,” she says, her voice muffled by the plush blankets.   
  
“Tired already?” Fjord asks, raising both eyebrows.   
  
Beau’s head turns against the bed, and she squints at him with one mascara-smudged eye. “Hey. I don’t want to hear it from the dude I caught sitting in the hallway.”   
  
“No one said he had to leave.” Molly shrugs, nearly dislodging the tapestry, revealing a tantalizing swathe of tattoo. He pops a grape into his mouth.   
  
Fjord’s trousers grow a little tight.   
  
“Aw, Fjord, you didn’t want to play?” Jester clasps her hands under her chin and tilts her head from side to side. “You’re missing out on a fun opportunity.”   
  
“You know this?” Yasha asks, her face pinking a little around the edges. “From, uh, from experience?”   
  
Jester flops one hand. “No. I mean, I’ve  _seen_  it, but I’ve never done it myself. It’s a little too complicated for beginners.” She wrinkles her nose. It shouldn’t be as adorable as it is.  
  
“It’s not that complicated,” Molly says with a laugh. He bites into an apple, sucking hard at the juices, and the sound it makes is positively obscene.   
  
Fjord jerks to his feet. “Yeah, Caleb had the right idea,” he says, and leans over the tray, snagging some kind of rinded fruit. He gets a whiff of Molly then, a mix of sex and incense, and yeah, it’s time to make a fast exit. “I’m going to go sleep in the now thoroughly despoiled bed.”   
  
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Molly brushes his arm as he reaches past Fjord for a strawberry. “Meanwhile, I see it as a sign of a good time.”   
  
“For someone else,” Fjord reminds him, and where no one can see, flutters a wink at the tiefling.   
  
Fjord straightens and backs toward the door, dipping his head toward everyone else. “I’m out for the night. Y’all have fun without me.”   
  
“There’s no fun without you,” Molly says as Jester giggles and even Yasha hides a little laugh behind her hand.   
  
Beau looses a groan and pulls a pillow over her head. “Just go, Molly. I wanna sleep.”   
  
Molly rolls his eyes and stands, giving everyone a good glimpse as the tapestry resettles around his body. “Just for the record, I’m not being thrown out, I’m leaving with grace and dignity and poise.” He lifts his chin and sweeps to the door, which Fjord opens for him.   
  
“Why thank you, good sir.” Molly’s head dips in an overly dramatic bow, his jewelry clinking and chiming around his face.   
  
“You’re welcome, fair lady,” Fjord says.   
  
“Goodnight, guys!” Jester calls after them, one hand flapping in a wild wave before Fjord closes the door, leaving them in the quiet of the hallway.   
  
“Hm.” Molly shifts his tapestry, and it’s got to be on purpose, the way it dips in the back, baring more of his tattoo. “We should’ve at least grabbed one of those food trays. I’m gonna want a snack in the morning.”   
  
He slants Fjord another look. "The kind that requires food."  
  
"Is there another kind?" Fjord asks.  
  
Molly laughs. "Oh, you poor naive seaman."  
  
Fjord scowls as heat threads up around his ears, momentarily taken from the pool of it in his belly. "I'm not inexperienced."  
  
"I know you're not." Molly places his hand on their door, key already in the lock. He tilts his head. "Coming?"  
  
A low growl rises in Fjord's throat, and he swallows it down. "Open the door."  
  
Fjord’s insides are a churning coil of need, and by the slanted looks Molly’s tossing him, the tiefling knows it. His lips are curved into a smirk, his tail lashing around behind him like an amused cat.  
  
He opens the door, slipping inside.  
  
Fjord follows.  
  
The moment the door closes, Fjord presses Molly up against it and kisses him, slanting their mouths together, tasting Molly and the sweetness of the fruit platter. Molly purrs, hands sliding over Fjord’s shoulders, nails leaving little pricks in his skin. The tapestry slithers to the floor in a noisy slump of fabric.   
  
“You should have joined us,” Molly says against the curve of his jaw, lips nibbling a path toward Fjord’s right ear, his voice a raw whisper of attraction.   
  
“I don’t play well with others,” Fjord replies as his hands slide down to Molly’s hips, his thumbs sweeping over the jut of his hipbones, tracing the thinner scars present.   
  
Molly laughs. He arches against Fjord, one leg curling around Fjord’s in a sinuous slide. “Now that’s a lie. You play just fine with me.”   
  
Heat floods Fjord’s cheeks. “You know that’s not what I meant.”   
  
“Yeah, but it’s still fun to tease.” His tongue flicks over the shell of Fjord’s ear. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”   
  
“Is that why you did it?”   
  
Molly briefly tenses in his arms before turning liquid again. He leans back, head against the door, lips curved. “I might have wanted to see your reaction,” he admits, dragging out the syllables on ‘might’. The fingers of one hand rap along the back of Fjord’s neck. “But only because you’re adorable when you blush. Other than that, it doesn’t mean anything.”   
  
He slants Fjord a look, and there’s something wary in it, something buried beneath the teasing and the bluster and the heat still darkening his red eyes.   
  
“I’m not worried about that,” Fjord says, and to keep on reassuring, he leans in close, greedily inhales Molly’s throat, the scent of sex clinging to him. His skin prickles with want. “We are what we are. I don’t own you. I haven’t asked for a promise.”   
  
“Mmm.” Molly’s head tilts to the side, offering more of his throat to Fjord’s lips and teeth, and he’s happy to oblige, happy to trace those thin weals with the tip of his tongue as Molly’s claws knead him not unlike a cat. “You’d like to though. Wouldn’t you?”   
  
Fjord laps at Molly’s skin, fingers walking a hungry path along his bare sides. “Only as much as you’d let me,” he rumbles. “Bed?”   
  
“Oh, you’d better.”   
  
Fjord chuckles and grips Molly by the hips, lifting him, long purple legs wrapping around his waist for assistance. Fjord staggers a little – Molly is lithe but sturdy, and not the lightest of their party members – but luckily he doesn’t have to go far.   
  
He avoids the rumpled bed and picks the smaller one, untouched. He drops Molly onto it, watching him bounce a little, tail lashing, limbs sprawled in all directions. He looks flushed, his cock half-hard where it nestles in a thatch of dark hair. How he has the energy after entertaining two consorts today, Fjord cannot begin to fathom.   
  
Molly's palm smooths down his belly before curling around his cock, grip firm, thumb sweeping a path over the tip, gathering up a pearl of precome. "You're looking at me like you have something in mind."  
  
"Are you sure you even have the energy for anything else?"  
  
Molly gasps in mock outrage. "You wound me. Do I look that ancient?"  
  
Fjord rolls his eyes and slides onto the bed beside him, hand smoothing over the curve of Molly's thigh to the softer, inner skin. "You don't even know how old you are."  
  
"Oh. Low blow." Molly squeezes his dick again, hips rocking up into his grip. "Or even lower, if you want to do some apologizing with your mouth."  
  
"And just what am I apologizing for?"  
  
"For depriving me of the opportunity of a fun foursome." Molly curves the back of his free hand around Fjord's neck, and before he can brace, pulls him down for a rough kiss, their mouths smacking together.  
  
Fjord laughs into the kiss. His hand skates up, joining Molly's around his dick, stroking him loosely. Molly sighs, bucking up against him, tail writhing against the bed.  
  
"Don't tease," Molly mutters against his lips.  
  
"I'm not." Fjord looses his grip and slides his hand back down again, briefly cupping Molly's scrotum before dipping further.  
  
Molly's loose and slick. Fjord easily slips two fingers inside, and Molly's talons dig into the back of his neck as his thighs splay even further.  
  
"Better," he purrs. "But still not enough."  
  
Fjord's world turns upside down. Or near enough to it. His back hits the bed with a bouncy jostle, and a softly warm tiefling lands on top of him, straddling him. The heel of Molly's palms slide up his belly, taking his shirt with them.  
  
"Off," he says, tail lashing playfully behind him.  
  
"You could ask," Fjord says as he pulls off the shirt.  
  
"That was me asking." Molly licks his lips and wriggles, grinding down on Fjord's groin, his dick hard beneath his trousers. "These, too."  
  
"Maybe you shoulda had me do that first," Fjord grunts as he tries to wriggle his trousers off with a lavender tiefling plastered on top of him.  
  
Molly rises and falls with his movement. "Where's the fun in that?"  
  
Fjord manages to get them down to his knees and decides that's enough. He kicks off his boots, draws up his feet, and grabs Molly's hips, pulling him down into position. The head of his dick nudges against the bottom of Molly's rump, leaving a streak of slick behind.  
  
Molly laughs and widens his knees. "My. Someone's impatient tonight." He braces his weight on Fjord's chest, pinky fingers brushing over the jut of his nipples. "Or do I just have that effect on you?"  
  
"Little bit of both," Fjord grunts. He bucks up and pulls down, rutting against Molly, leaving pearls of precome in his wake, as a wet heat tightens in his belly. "You want me or not?"  
  
"To be fair, I'm enjoying your struggle." Molly rises up on his knees, cants his hips, and on Fjord's next thrust, he slides home.  
  
Fjord's head tips back, sucking in his lower lip, as he sinks into Molly, instantly surrounded by tight, gripping heat. Molly drops down, taking him to the hilt, with a little shudder that seems to crawl up into his shoulders. Red eyes flash with heat and talons prick into Fjord's skin.  
  
"Better?" Molly pants.  
  
"Much." Fjord tightens his grip and rolls up and up, pushing hard and deep with as much leverage as he can manage.  
  
Molly's hips roll to meet him, the head of his dick grinding against Fjord's belly. It needs to be touched, so Fjord looses one hand and curls it around Molly's cock. A low rumble of pleasure echoes in Molly's throat as he humps forward, rocking into Fjord's fist.  
  
The bed creaks.  
  
Fjord idly wonders if anyone is listening in.  
  
Then he doesn't care as Molly squeezes down on him and quickens the pace, riding him with as much energy as if he hasn't spent a good portion of the night entertaining two other guests.  
  
Molly curls over him, nose in Fjord's throat, teeth and tongue leaving a stinging path behind him. "Feel free to come," he pants. "There's a rather well-stocked bathhouse here."  
  
Gods.  
  
The noise that comes out of Fjord's throat isn't entirely human. But then again, neither is he. It feels like Molly's been teasing him all night, from the moment the two entertainers knocked on the door of their shared room. Like Fjord's been riding the edge of need, and up until this moment, he's done a decent job of restraining himself.  
  
Restraint gets tossed out the proverbial window.  
  
He rolls, taking Molly with him, and crushes his mouth over the tiefling's. He grips Molly hips and thrusts into him, a startled gasp lost in the kiss. Molly makes a noise in his throat, and his fingernails sink into Fjord's shoulders as he bucks up, grinding the head of his dick against Fjord's abdomen. Over and over, the bed bouncing and making all kinds of racket.  
  
Fjord half-expects Caleb to pound on the wall beside him. The thought is there and gone again in an instant because Molly tastes like fruit, and his tail is wrapped around Fjord's thigh, and he's gripping Fjord in the perfect, perfect squeeze.  
  
Fjord comes so hard he sees stars. He slams deep, pumping his spill into Molly, and an answering spurt washes hot and weak over his belly. He grinds his hips, gentling the kiss to something less rough, less with teeth.  
  
Molly's lips are still swollen in the aftermath. He looks ravished, and Fjord can't help but be pleased with himself.  
  
"Why do you look so smug? Don't be smug," Molly says against his mouth. He captures Fjord's bottom lip between his teeth, giving it a tug.   
  
“I can be smug if I want,” Fjord replies, though it comes out muffled until Molly releases his lip. His tongue sweeps across the impressions of teeth. “Guess you had a bit of energy left in you after all.”   
  
Molly rolls his eyes. “You are not as funny as you think you are,” he says as he prods Fjord in the shoulder. His thighs tighten briefly around Fjord’s waist before his feet fall back to the bed, and Fjord slips out of him. “And now I need a bath.”  
  
“Need help?”   
  
Molly’s tail flicks against his thigh. “Are you planning on helping or making a bigger mess?”   
  
Fjord seriously debates that for a moment, and his answer must not come quick enough for Molly. The tiefling laughs and wriggles out from under him, looking quite edible as he’s splattered with Fjord’s come. He slips off the bed, snatches up his tapestry, and whirls, settling it around his shoulders.   
  
“That’s what I thought.” Molly winks and flounces to the door. “I’m going to wash off. You can wait for me here.”   
  
Fjord uses a corner of the expensive blanket to wipe off. “Now who’s the one spoiling all the fun?”   
  
Molly rolls his eyes and whips the door open, prompting Fjord to dive for the other bed, before any passing stranger gets sight of him half-naked, his bits hanging out for all the world to see. He fumbles to get his trousers up and around his hips.   
  
“Molly!” he hisses.   
  
The tiefling laughs, winks, and vanishes out the door. It closes with a quiet click behind him.   
  
Fjord sighs. He glances from one rumpled bed to the other.   
  
He sets to stripping off the dirtied blankets. Molly’s plenty warm. They won’t need blankets. They’ll be just fine without them.   
  


*

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback, as always, is welcome and appreciated. And I've got a lot more coming, just gotta get it edited. :)


End file.
